


Impressions

by JazzRaft



Series: Aesthetic Appreciation [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Artists, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-02-01 00:10:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12693018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JazzRaft/pseuds/JazzRaft
Summary: He was different. Ardyn liked different. Although, it was hard to flirt with different when he didn’t want a drink.





	Impressions

**Author's Note:**

> for an [anonymous request< /a >](http://jazzraft.tumblr.com/post/167384363147/ardynxravus-please-with-the-prompt-you-can-fool)

It really wasn’t the art itself that Ardyn attended these things for. Art was just pictures. They were only ever one thing: a couple expensive pigments splattered on a plain canvas. Once a piece was done, it was done. They never changed.

It was the people that made the art more significant than the reality of what it truly was. It was the people that made the simple act of smearing color on paper into the very concept of “art.” People perceived their own souls in the different shades of color and texture and form. Whether it was abstract or baroque or expressive, people turned one thing into a thousand things, each one unique to the individual standing outside of the frame. Whether it was artist or audience, one small square of complimentary colors turned into a whole universe in the eye of the beholder.

Mankind was the true work of art, a million disparate pieces of a picture coming together over a single image, and each one bringing with them a biography of their own lifetime. The entire world condensed into a tiny little Altissian gallery, a different stroke of humanity blending into the airy room throughout the changing light of the day.

Bright and bubbly blondes in gilded couture flitted in at dawn like awakening songbirds, feathery fingers bathing in mimosas and early morning gossip. The darker, quieter crowd of critics and scholars bled in with the shades of the afternoon, the earthbound academics of art murmured over black cups of coffee. Then, the evening popped open champagne to toast the moonlight, coaxing the last dregs of the dreamy and discarded artisans of the city to the gallery doors.

Ravus often came with the night crowd, inviting the moonlight inside with the sleek collapse of his hair. And he always came alone if he didn’t come with his sister. Why he came at all, Ardyn always wondered. Painting was Luna’s passion, and her happiness in her own accomplishments was Ravus’ pride, but the culture of art itself didn’t seem to appeal to the man very much.

He didn’t enjoy making idle conversation. He avoided the gravitational pull of gossip pockets by clinging to the corners of the room. He never accepted a drink, declining any offers with curt courtesy – although, if anyone looked like they needed a drink at these things, it was Ravus. He only spoke when he felt it was necessary, to curators and prospective buyers and anyone with deep enough pockets to afford his sister the accolades he felt she deserved.

He came to these galleries to make an appearance when Luna could not, and that was it. He wasn’t there to admire the art or socialize with the people. He was there to be seen, to serve as the model for Accordon excellence, a fixture against the walls as much as any of the paintings mounted upon them were. He didn’t bring the same brushstrokes into the galleries that Ardyn had come to expect out of people.

He was different. Ardyn liked different.

Although, it was hard to flirt with different when he didn’t want a drink.

“Won’t you make an exception?” Ardyn insisted. “For me?”

Ravus looked at him with all the apathetic languor of a behemoth batting an ear at a fly. Ardyn gulped down one of the two glasses in his hands to kill the pout on his lips. He discarded it on the tray of a passing server before directing his attention to the painting Ravus was pretending to find spiritual connectivity with.

It was fairly simple. A solitary silhouette of an androgynous figure with duplications of different shades painted along the edges, giving it the impression of an endless stack of person-shaped cards stretching deep into the canvas. White and black and every shade of gray in between tunneled into a backdrop of chaotic smudges of primary colors. The limitless layers of humanity striking through the complex infinity of an uncertain universe.

“A bit heavy-handed if you ask me,” Ardyn commented. “Not very subtle.”

“Then it’s perfect for you.”

Ardyn chuckled, mouth pressing into an amused line when he watched the thin string of tension pull taut across Ravus’ shoulders. Laughter was not the reaction he’d been expecting. The people that frequented this scene were so easily offended. Bluntness was often awarded with a scoff – maybe even a slap from the more theatrically inclined. Ardyn found it refreshing. A little dull, about as simplistic as the painting in front of them, but a nice change of pace. He enjoyed the word games of the upper echelon of Altissian society, but there were only so many times a person could fall for his vernacular manipulations before he tired of it.

“I assumed you for a man who appreciated transparency,” Ardyn said, vying for a clue as to how he could sneak beneath that shell.

“I appreciate silence.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re in the wrong place.”

Art galleries were quiet enough, but hardly silent. There was always a murmur about something or other in the spacious halls. Always white noise for every black background. Ravus glanced at the people around him as if this was the first he’d noticed them, cursory stare clicking between socialites in disinterested acknowledgment. They were there, yes. They were nothing else.

The silence Ravus coveted so dearly clotted between them then, sticking stubbornly to the unreachable man beside him. No man was truly untouchable, though. There was always something.

“I’m disappointed that your sister could not attend tonight. I was eager to speak with her about one of her pieces on display at the Leville opening.”

Ravus valiantly kept his gaze forward, pinned to the figure of a thousand shades. His head shifted imperceptibly to the side, hair falling away from his ear to lend it to a potential negotiation for a piece. Ardyn smiled, victorious where he wasn’t looking.

“I found her interpretation of Ifrit and Shiva to be quite compelling. Unique from most other depictions. A more sensitive quality to the features. A more delicate color palette than the intense duality most artists interpret from the mythology.”

“It was quite a labor-intensive piece,” Ravus at last replied, affording him a sharp glance. “Took half a year to complete.”

“So I would assume, given the quality of the piece.”

“You’re willing to pay the price for that quality, then?”

“Willing to pay that and more, if you’ll accept it.”

Ravus’ eyes narrowed, body turned fully towards him. He was intrigued, yet suspicious. He crossed his arms, quiet in his consideration before naming his price. “Ten thousand gil.”

“Fifteen.”

While the gallery was buzzing with muted conversation, the silence between them cut in as if from another room entirely. Completely separate from everyone else. Ardyn was good at this. The waiting. He’d waited a long time for an opportunity like this. Ravus wasn’t in the habit of giving him many openings. He had to pry them open where he could.

“Fine. You have a deal. I’ll make the arrangements and have it sent to an address of your choosing.”

“I have a delivery request, if you’ll indulge me. The offer is entirely dependent upon it.”

Ravus quirked a brow, fine as spun silver and just as sharp in its skepticism. “Oh? And what is this request?”

“That you deliver it to me, personally. That’s all.”

Ravus’ jaw worked hard, teeth grinding in the back of his mouth as he considered. He stared at Ardyn for the longest time, trying to guess as to his intentions. And he’d insinuated that he wasn’t subtle. _Hah._

“It will be done,” Ravus finally conceded.

“Excellent. A pleasure doing business with you.”

He didn’t bother extending a hand to shake on it. He knew that Ravus wouldn’t take it, if the stubborn smash of his fists in his pockets was any indicator. Ravus watched him for a moment before turning to the gallery doors.

“I don’t know what your game is, Izunia,” he said under his breath as he was passing. “But whatever it is, I’m not going to fall for it. You can fool everyone else in the world, but not me.”

Ardyn said nothing, merely smiled at him until he was out the door. He didn’t fail to notice the slight incline of the back of his head, silver strands of hair leaning querulously in Ardyn’s direction before he was out of sight.

“On the contrary, my dear. I think you’re already a fool for me.”


End file.
